


the spaces in between

by Fumm95



Series: Tu Omnia (TWC) [1]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Birthday Party, Book 2 Spoilers, Conversations, Emotional Repression, F/M, Friendly banter, Injury Recovery, Love Triangles, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Supportive friend, evening stroll, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24496276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumm95/pseuds/Fumm95
Summary: A collection of one-shots and prompts for The Wayhaven Chronicles, focusing on Adam/f!Detective.
Relationships: Detective/Adam du Mortain, Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Series: Tu Omnia (TWC) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769749
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	1. A Little Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> I technically wrote and posted this on tumblr for A's birthday two weeks ago, but I finally got around to deciding I should start posting them to AO3 as well. :)

In the past few months, she has come to start seeing The Warehouse, as it has become permanently dubbed in her mind, as a second home base of sorts. Between maintaining her position as the human liaison with the Agency and continuing her training with Unit Bravo, there has been plenty to keep her busy, enough so that she’s joked more than once about moving in permanently.

She has not missed the way Farah’s eyes light up, nor the significant looks the vampire sends towards their team leader every time.

Still, even with the continued and increased experiences of the general… unpredictability of everything going on at The Warehouse, even she is not expecting to enter one surprisingly warm day in mid May to find the living room utterly transformed. Long streamers in a kaleidoscope of color have been strewn throughout the room, taped to nearly every available surface in a way that barely allows for navigation. Balloons, somehow even more garish than the paper, fill every open space. And even more interesting…

When she enters, it is to find most of the members of Unit Bravo settled in their usual positions scattered about the room, though all turned towards her. Unusually, however, Farah is not sprawled in her favorite chair, but rather, on her entrance, darts forward, dropping something on her head before speeding towards the window and doing the same to Adam. She has just enough time to catch a glimpse of a cone shape before it’s snatched away.

In spite of her best efforts to remain impassive, her eyebrow raises, so much so that she nearly misses the greetings and calls of her name from the others, until Farah’s voice rings out over the rest.

“Ah, you’re here! You’re just in time!”

She pauses, taking an extra second to take in her surroundings before turning back to the grinning woman, who looks completely unperturbed by the glare Adam is sending her way. “Do I dare ask?”

“For the party!”

Her second eyebrow joins her first, particularly when an audible sigh reaches her from the side of the room.

“It appears as though some of us,” and no, she does not miss the glare he directed towards Nate, who looks only marginally contrite, “have decided to let certain dates slip, while others have taken it upon themselves to force all of this… foolishness upon the rest of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Farah quips, voice still as blithe as ever. “So far, you’re the only person complaining, birthday boy.”

The concept of calling Adam du Mortain anything involving the word “boy,” particularly given the exasperation in his icy green gaze, is enough to make her choke back a chuckle. Morgan, given the snickering from the corner of the room, has no such qualms, and even Nate’s mouth curls into a faint smile as he steps forward, reaching out a placating hand to his friend.

“I only thought it would be nice to celebrate something for you. At least make some new memories with everyone here.”

“Yeah, it isn’t every day you turn… what is it now? Six thousand years old?”

Adam sighs again, more resigned this time, though she can’t help but wonder if she imagined the way the corners of his lips seemed to twitch. “Very well. Though I expect the… planners of such an event will also serve to restore the state of the room afterwards?”

She takes advantage of the chaos that pronouncement heralds to step closer to him. This time, she is certain she does not imagine the way his eyes soften as he meets her gaze, and she swallows, feeling her throat dry suddenly at the warmth in his gaze.

“I… It’s your birthday?”

He blinks, almost shaking off whatever had settled over him, and frowns. “Clearly.”

She hesitates but there is no true ire in his voice and she pushes on instead. “I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to get you a gift.”

A broad shoulder rises in a shrug. “I don’t exactly advertise it. It hasn’t been something that I’ve thought about for… many years now. To be quite honest, I’d forgotten about it until…” His nod indicates Nate and Farah, the former of whom is now apparently occupied with attempting to bring forward a cake while preventing the latter from swiping a finger full of frosting.

She chuckles. “I’m glad they did this.”

“Oh?”

His eyes are genuinely curious now, and they almost seem to draw the truth out of her. “Yes, well. It’s nice to have a day off, and now I know for next year.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to get me anything.”

“No, but I want to.”

For a moment, something seems to flicker in his gaze, a heavy, electric feeling that leaves her almost breathless, and she _jumps_ when Nate’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Farah! Leave the cake alone!”

Drawing a deep breath, she grins, shaking her head. “Well, we should probably head over if we want anything left. But seriously.” Before she can change her mind, she reaches out, laying a hand on his arm. “Happy birthday.”

He nods, an abrupt movement, and moves to join the others, but she is sure she didn’t imagine the small smile that crept over his lips, nor the soft “thank you” in his wake.


	2. Words Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Adam have a conversation about the Detective and a particular Latin phrase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted on tumblr a bit ago for the prompt "i’m afraid if i say it out loud i will cast a curse" for Adam. Because yearning.
> 
> Will I ever get over "tu omnia?" No. No I will not.

After the many long years that they have known each other, it has become an unspoken tradition to wait by the bedside of whomever is stuck in the infirmary, in both a sign of friendship and, at least in the cases when it is Adam who has been relegated to bedrest, in full understanding that, if he does not find some way to keep his friend occupied or at least distracted, he is instead throwing the poor doctor left in charge to the wolves.

Adam knows this just as well as he does, which makes it all the more unusual that, for the first time in memory, his reaction is different, a flicker of something passing over his face, almost too fast for anyone to recognize. Except he _has_ known Adam for these many long years, to the point where he suspects he might recognize the emotion even better than his longtime friend does, or at least is willing to admit.

_Disappointment._

Biting back a smirk with difficulty, Nate leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Rebecca made sure she went to rest after that fight but I’m sure she’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Oh.”

He can tell the exact moment the words and, more importantly, his friend’s instinctual response, sink in through the man’s thick skull; Adam visibly tenses, his face stiffening only marginally less than his muscles do, and it is _because_ he knows his friend, is one of the few people who begins to understand him well enough to have an inkling of his intentions, that he sighs, low and long.

“She told me what you said.”

“What?” The word is too fast, too abrupt, and he shakes his head, cutting off the attempt at a denial before he can even try. Not that it would make much of a difference, considering Adam has never been good at lying to him.

“Of course, she didn’t say it was you, but…” He shrugs. “It wasn’t exactly hard to work out. How many people here do you think would just throw around a phrase in Latin? Let alone _that_ particular phrase.”

He looks down to find Adam silent, though this time, his speechlessness is seemingly not by choice, and has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Leave it to their team leader to find a way to make something that is as straightforward as caring for someone who clearly cares just as much back into a complicated ordeal in order to keep her from harm.

At times, he’s almost curious what Surina even sees in him, except he _knows_ , because it is the same things that have gifted him his friendship with Adam. And the fact that she can see his depths is credit enough for her. Which makes it all the more perplexing…

He looks down, trying to catch the cool green gaze, but it is instead fixed on the bedspread and the clenched fists that rest upon it.

“You should tell her.” _That_ gets his attention and despite the years he has had time to develop an immunity to it, he almost, _almost_ , flinches under what he knows is one of Adam’s sharpest glares.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

If he is to be perfectly honest with himself, he is not sure if it is more comical or insulting that Adam apparently thinks he can lie undetected. Not when he knows Adam almost as well as the man knows himself, and certainly better than anyone else can possibly claim.

Well, at least for now.

Still, the fact does remain that he knows the words are a lie, can see it in the tight set of his friend’s mouth, in the cool, detached gaze that meets his, far too impassive to be genuine, even for his usual inscrutability. Adam is not one to lie to him, not with the bond that they have, the brotherhood that has been built across the centuries, which means this…

He looks again at his friend’s form as he glares into the distance, the rigid set of his body, the furrow of his brow, the flicker of something unfamiliar and foreign in those pale green eyes, and he suspects that he can count on one hand the number of times he has seen Adam like this, tense and wary, emotions spilling out from his mask despite even his prodigious control. In fact, one of the most recent times that stands out in his memory is…

Is when Adam had stumbled into Surina’s apartment after his fight with Murphy, barely upright, covered in blood, and _afraid_ for the woman who had been captured, taken from him.

The realization hits all at once and he exhales, long and slow. As close as they are, there are still many things about Adam’s past that have gone unmentioned, that he has always known better than to ask about, but what he does know is enough. Except…

Except this is no way to live, and they, Adam and Surina both, deserve more. They deserve happiness.

“You cannot hide forever,” he says instead. His voice is soft but still the stiff face twitches before smoothing out into its usual inscrutability. “No good will come out of ignoring this, of lying about everything. You know that.”

“Nate…”

He is startled when the quiet intonation of his name is neither warning nor plea, but rather a sigh, an acknowledgement of what he has said, perhaps even an acceptance, and in his own surprise, the words slip out before he can stop them: “You are afraid.”

For a moment, he wonders whether he has gone too far; Adam visibly flinches, a momentary loss of control that is all the more concerning for its intensity. But the face that slowly turns toward his is more transparent, more vulnerable, than he has seen in a long while, and he sighs, dropping a gentle hand on the tense shoulder.

“I…” Pale green eyes close for a moment, though whether in fear or in surrender, he can’t be sure. “Yes.”

The response is almost too quiet even for his heightened hearing, and he says nothing else, instead giving a light squeeze. It won’t do anything to combat the specters hanging over him, the memories and experiences that haunt him, that he knows well enough, but…

He cocks his head to the side, catching the sounds of a familiar heartbeat approaching, and hides his smile when Adam, too, notices, his expression softening ever so slightly as his gaze flickers to the door.

But perhaps someone else can.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got another visitor.” He rises to his feet and lets a grin creep across his face as he gives the shoulder a final pat. “You really should tell her sometime. But then again, maybe you don’t have to if you keep using Latin. You do realize that most people with some knowledge of etymology can probably break down the basics, right?”

Ignoring the faint sputtering from behind him, he chuckles and walks to the door, giving a bemused looking Surina a jaunty wave as he passes.


	3. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verda has a few comments to make about the station's late night visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "he looks like he will keep you safe."
> 
> In which "tu omnia" references continue. :D

She is not entirely surprised to find Verda still in the office when she makes her way towards the exit; despite the family he has, his impeccable work ethics means it is often a toss-up on whether he or she will leave the office later, particularly in recent months, with the uptick in the apparently inexplicable, supernatural occurrences.

She _is_ , however, taken aback to find that he is not alone, lounging beside a taller figure in the cool twilight of another spring night. A smile curves her mouth on instinct as she steps forward, a greeting on her lips, but her words die in her throat when the individual pulls into focus and it isn’t Verda’s broad-shouldered husband at all. Except…

Except that _can’t_ be right, because the man standing beside him appears to be Commanding Agent Adam du Mortain.

She shakes her head. Either her eyes are deceiving her or she is beginning to hallucinate, neither of which being wholly unlikely scenarios considering the amount of time she has spent staring at paperwork and generally shut up in her office in the past days. Or, she supposes, something has happened that requires her immediate attention, right after things have finally returned to the closest thing to normal that is possible for Wayhaven at this point.

None of the options are particularly comforting and she hesitates, checking her step and contemplating the wisdom of putting off the confrontation until much, _much_ later.

Any plans she might have to that effect are ruined before she can even fully make up her mind, however; no doubt sensing her approach, Adam turns to face her and, even across the distance, she can feel the full force of that cool green gaze on her, drawing her toward them without conscious thought.

A hand on her shoulder shakes her out of her reverie and she blinks to find Verda standing beside her, his face neutral. Or, at least, it would be if not for the sparkle of amusement in his dark eyes.

“Are you with me now?”

“Sorry.” She looks away, though not daring to glance back outside, where she can still feel the heavy gaze on her. “I was just…”

“Distracted.” There is definitely a faint smirk playing in the corners of his mouth now and she presses her lips together in a no doubt futile attempt to stay impassive. “Not that I can blame you. The agent is very… intense.”

“That’s one word for it.” She sighs, casting her eyes about before settling on the clock. “Still, it’s getting late. What are you doing here?”

It is hardly a subtle attempt to change the subject and she knows it just as well as he does; Verda chuckles, the quiet sound echoing through the station, and she pointedly doesn’t notice the way the figure outside turns ever so slightly in their direction.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I was finishing up paperwork. I swear, they’re multiplying. As soon as I finish something, two more appear.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with your absences, of course,” he replies easily, though the evenness of his tone is belied by the mischief in his gaze. “Then again, if I were the one picking between red tape and spending time with the rest of that team of yours… Well, I can’t say I don’t understand why you fell behind.”

When she makes a face, he laughs again, and she can't resist the urge to roll her eyes. “So why are _you_ here? I can’t imagine Eric or the kids are too happy about you staying in so late.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not wrong there. But between my conference and trying to find a cure for whatever all of those people were inflicted with, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t fallen behind as well.”

“Verda…” She bites her lip to stave off the words she’s not allowed to say, her heart pounding in her chest so loudly that it’s a small miracle he doesn’t hear it. Adam, she notices from the corner of her eye, does seem to, if his sudden stiffening is any indication.

The smile the man before her offers is small, but genuine. “No harm done. What’s important is that everyone is safe. But it does mean I have to make up some of the actual work I should have been doing, just like you. I was just about to head out when Agent du Mortain showed up.” Verda leans his weight onto his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets in a show of casualness. “Not a very talkative man, is he?”

In spite her best efforts to remain impassive, she nearly chokes. Instead, she takes a deep, steadying breath and prays that that her voice betrays none of her surprise. “Ad— Agent du Mortain, talkative? Not so much, no.”

Judging from the mirth that flashes across his face, she is not as convincing as she might have hoped, but thankfully, he chooses not to comment, instead giving her a small, meaningful glance. “He also isn’t the type to put words to what he feels, is he? So perhaps that might be expected.”

She does not need to look outside to see the way the man in question tenses at her friend’s words, every muscle coiled and tight, and her smile in response is a little stiff, a non-answer if there ever was one, but one that has Verda’s eyes softening.

“Just as long as you’re aware.”

She draws a breath, opening her mouth to reply, but instead memories replace the man before her. Memories of tired green eyes, a gentle touch, and a quiet murmur…

_Tu… omnia…_

“Elodie?”

She blinks as concerned eyes, brown and not green, swim back into focus and a warm hand presses onto her shoulder. “You still with me?”

“Yeah.” Shaking her head in a sharp motion, she clears her throat and meets his gaze. “Yeah, sorry. I… got distracted.” She forces her lips into a smile. "Again."

Verda offers her a smile with a hint of mischief woven through the worry. “As long as you’re all right. I don’t want to have to go explaining that you collapsed from just a conversation. I didn’t think that would be enough to knock you off your feet there. Though…” He pauses, shooting her a teasing look. “I suppose that answered my question more than anything else. Wouldn’t you say?”

With an effort, she grins, forcing a laugh through the suddenly thick tension. “Didn’t take you for a matchmaker.”

He shrugs, his expression considerably lighter. “When it comes to you, at least. You’ve more than earned it.”

At the sincerity in his voice, she can’t help the smile that creeps across her face. “Thanks, Verda.”

His hand squeezes once, a gentle and affectionate gesture, and he nods at her before turning back towards the parking lot and the approaching vehicle with a smile. “Well, I think that’s my ride. You’ll be all right getting home from here.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and she raises a questioning eyebrow only to receive a chuckle and a simple answer: “He looks like he will keep you safe.”

There is no need to explain who _he_ is.

She opens her mouth to reply, but before she can, Verda gives her a cheerful grin and a clap on the shoulder. “Remember what I said. Have a good evening, Agent du Mortain.”

In spite of the warning, she starts when Adam suddenly appears beside her, arms crossed over his chest,, a dark shadow in his usual grey coat. He tilts his head at her, something almost… gentle in his expression, except it must be a figment of her overactive imagination, _it must be_ , because…

His eyes meet hers, cool and unfathomable in the dim light from the street lamps, and she almost flinches away at the intensity in his gaze. Drawing a ragged breath into her suddenly tight chest, she forces a smile.

“On patrol again?”

A broad shoulder rises in a shrug. “It is late.”

“That it is. A consequence of my spending so much time at the Warehouse, I suppose.” She rolls her own shoulders with a sigh. “At least it’s been quiet since the carnival.”

She is not expecting a response and she knows this. Still, the silence hangs, thick and cloying between them, until she glances up to find him frowning towards the empty parking lot.

“I walked this morning. Didn’t think I’d have to stay so late, but I guess that’s my fault.”

His response is more of a grunt than anything else, and it is her turn to frown. “What is it?”

“You were planning on walking back alone?”

His voice is low, a hint of what she would call worry for anyone else lurking in the smooth tone, and an eyebrow raises in spite of her best efforts to remain impassive. “Well… If there was nobody else here, then yes. I have been doing it for months without any problems.” She glances up to find his lips pressed into a thin line, though he says nothing further, and offers him a small smile. “I can’t say I mind the company though.”

His gaze seems to dart towards her, something flickering through too quickly for her to recognize, and she finds herself looking away, the statement hanging between them as she makes her way down the familiar streets towards her building, he a silent shadow keeping pace at her side.

It is not until she is standing outside the door that he speaks, his voice so low that she almost misses it entirely. “Nor do I.”

“Hmm?”

For a heartbeat, he stares at her, something warm and hesitant in his eyes, and then he pulls away, hands settling into what she guesses is a parade rest behind his back, and she forces a smile as she steps into the building. “Good night, then. Thank you.”

“Sleep well.” As the door slams closed behind her, she wonders if she imagines his quiet voice in its wake: “And… always.”


	4. On Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another perspective on the end of book 2, LT style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very very late response to the prompt “Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”
> 
> Because of course I went straight to the LT for this one. I Am Who I Am.

Adam knows as soon as he senses Farah approaching, amber eyes sparkling with her usual wild energy, that he would find little enjoyment in whatever nonsense she has planned.

That, in it of itself, is not unusual; even in the best of times, the younger agent’s enthusiasm and general joie de vivre are… overwhelming, to put it mildly, and this is hardly what he would consider the best of times.

At least, not for him.

Taking a deep breath, he steps out of the shadows, folding his arms over his chest as he glares down at her. “What?”

The word is a low growl but she hardly seems to notice, and he finds himself wondering, not for the first time, whether or not she purposely chooses to employ her empathic senses for the sole purpose of annoying him. Judging from the way her lips curl into a predatory smirk, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts, it would seem the answer is yes.

That does not, apparently, stop the eyes that blink up at him with utmost innocence and he suppresses a sigh with some difficulty.

“Nothing. Can’t I just be here to check on you?”

He opens his mouth, a brusque command on his tongue, but… In spite of himself, he pauses. Her words are flippant enough, as they always are, but… But what he missed in his earlier… preoccupation is that there is compassion there too, a glimmer of sympathetic understanding in her gaze that makes the muscles in his back tighten and instead, he sighs, running his hand over his hair.

“I’m fine.”

It is not exactly a lie, but even so, her expression sharpens in a way that has him swallowing down his urge to insist. After all, he knows just as well as she does that it would only serve to intensify her suspicions.

“Hmm.”

His relief at her uncharacteristic acceptance lives only until she casts her eyes in the same direction he has been observing, the meandering path he has been following through the carnival’s numerous tents and attractions. Until she spies the two figures he cannot seem to look away from, walking hand in hand.

“Oh, Adam…”

He suppresses a flinch. “What?” he repeats, this time with all of the sharpness that he managed to keep hidden from his face.

Farah visibly frowns, the disapproving expression all the more grave coming from her perennially cheerful mien. The heavy weight of it settles in his stomach, a cold, unwelcome feeling that has him looking away.

Instead, inexorably, his gaze is drawn toward the pair, hands laced together while pale and dark heads incline toward each other, soft and intimate. As he watches, she tilts her head further up, says something that makes him through his head back in that warm, open laugh of his, one that his vampiric senses can hear even across the distance, even despite all of his efforts to the contrary.

His chest tightens.

“Adam,” she says again, and he has to force himself to meet her gaze, to settle his attention on the soft sympathy that somehow only manages to hurt more. “They aren’t… You don’t…” She shakes her head and he can’t help but raise an eyebrow at her unusual inarticulacy. “She didn’t choose.”

In spite of himself, he stiffens, the word she didn’t say ringing in his mind. The name of his oldest, closest friend. The one person he trusts above all others.

The only person who deserves her, who could be enough.

He clears his throat, the rough sound grating even to his own ears. “She should.”

Her sigh is audible in her voice. “You don’t believe that.”

“I do,” he says with as much conviction as he can muster. When she turns her gaze on him, he swallows, looking away from those dark, knowing eyes, too full of both reproach and sympathy. “I have to.”

In the ensuing silence, his attention falls back on the silhouettes that he cannot seem to lose, looking for all the world like another couple at the carnival.

Like what Farah no doubt intended for their first investigation, the one that he had to interrupt.

A gentle hand falls onto his arm and he stiffens, but the voice that drifts over his shoulder is quiet, almost coaxing. “Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

He doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t seem to be expecting him to; with a gentle squeeze, she steps away, far too insightful eyes blessedly relinquishing their hold, and he takes a deep breath, his own gaze falling back on Nate and the Detective, bright and warm and content in their peace.

It is enough. It has to be.

“I know,” he murmurs, though whether it is to Farah or himself, not even he can be sure.


End file.
